


Permanence

by RaspberriBlonde



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tattoos, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberriBlonde/pseuds/RaspberriBlonde
Summary: Two teens, one tattoo gun, and questionable decisions.
Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 18
Kudos: 92





	Permanence

Permanence. The buzzing sounded like permanence; like on your skin, forever, til-you-die permanence. 

“Are- are you sure you know how to use that thing?”

“Of course I do,” Cherry snapped, tattoo gun in-hand, glaring down at Joe through his glasses. 

While the tattoo gun was new, it was the glasses that were out of place, delicate frames in stark contrast to the bold piercings littering his face and ears. Joe knew Cherry was blind as shit but refused, vainly, to wear his glasses. Except in private. While he worked on his art. 

And somehow, here Joe was sitting, shirt off and feeling less like a person and more like a blank canvas. Well... not quite blank anymore. His shoulder now bore the freehand design Cherry had drawn in orange sharpie, sinuous curves of a sun hugging the joint. No question, the work was good—Cherry supplemented his natural artistic talent with dedicated practice, tackling it the same way he did everything, even skating. But the way Cherry squinted down at the design, mouth turned in a judgmental frown, was the same way he attacked a blank page: like it had insulted him. 

“What? You’re not going to back out now, are you?”

Joe puffed up at that. “No!” This was the same form of taunting Cherry used every time he pushed Joe to take a higher jump or test a gnarly trick. Joe knew it and he still let it get to him. 

“Alright. Let’s do it then.” Cherry turned back to the home brewed tattooing station he’d set up, tiny cups of black ink reflecting the room’s overhead lighting. 

It should have hurt. The first contact between skin and needle. 

Instead, all Joe could focus on was the warmth of Cherry’s gloved hands against his skin and the fleeting brush of Cherry’s steading exhale. The deep breath he took before piercing skin was the only sign of nerves since this whole terrible... great?... stupid idea came up. 

Buzzing filled Joe’s ears but it was no longer the whirring of the machine, held confidently in the artist’s hand, that caused it. He closed his eyes, it was too much to feel let alone watch. Cherry’s closeness. The rhythmic sting, wipe, sting. The way Cherry leaned in—seemingly with his whole body—when he tackled the outline reaching up the shoulder. The tickle on Joe’s bare chest when pink hair slowly slipped free of its band. 

And he didn’t have to watch to know that Cherry was engrossed in his work—small crease between the brows, absentmindedly rotating the ring in his lip with his teeth and tongue. He only paused to roll his shoulders, push back his hair, and re-up the ink in the gun. 

An hour passed painstakingly slow and in a flash, and then another. Why did we have to decide on something huge for a first tattoo? The thought crossed both their minds at some point or another. 

A particular deep stroke on skin stretched over bone elicited the first reaction. Joe inhaled sharply, tensing while trying not to jerk away. 

“Stay still, you gorilla.” Cherry wiped the spot down and added another paper towel to the pile of others sporting a mix of black ink and hints of blood. He paused, longer than his normal breaks, and softly uttered “You’re doing really well.”

“I bet you say that to everyone you’re tattooing.”

After hours of coexisting in relative silence accompanied by mechanical humming, they finally made eye contact. 

“No. This will probably be the only tattoo I ever give, I think...”

Joe opened his mouth, shut it, nodded. And they continued, until the sun was outlined in a bold, mostly even stroke. 

—-

The lines fade and soften over time. Some sections heal better than others, because what teen can be trusted to reliably take care of a fresh tattoo? 

Years later, Joe gets the design completely filled in by a local artist—someone licensed to tattoo—but doesn’t allow any design changes to be made. 

He wants it just the way it was originally put there, permanently—like on his skin, forever, til-he-dies.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang on Twitter with me! @raspberriblonde <3
> 
> And thanks so much for reading!!


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